


One Girl To Fight The Darkness

by galaxy_of_words



Series: Janie's Got A Stake (a Buffy AU) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, F/M, buffystuck, jane hates destiny, jane wants a happy normal life and relationship, she gets gamzee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_of_words/pseuds/galaxy_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jane Crocker and you are The Slayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Girl To Fight The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Uh a little Buffy AU with Jane as the slayer. Includes some Gamjane. Trying to get back into the hang of writing and kill my block.

Your name is Jane Crocker and you are The Slayer.

You didn’t sign up for this. To be honest, no one ever does. It’s something you're born into not something you can choose because lord knows you would never choose to live like this. Never choose to live in isolation and fear. Never choose to grow up so fast and take care of everyone all the time. Never choose a lifestyle where the average life expectancy means you’re likely to die before graduating college. No you didn’t choose any of that, just like all those who came before you didn’t choose to die so young and in such gruesome ways. Like all slayers you were born with the potential and like all the girls who came before you, you were chosen to become the one girl in charge of purging evil from the earth. You didn’t think it was going to be you. Not little Jane Crocker who liked baking and Agatha Christie novels. Your teen years were supposed to be full of movie marathons with friends and badly thought out pranks and laughter. Not darkness and fate looming over you like a cloud and so much death.

Believe it or not you find the fighting to be the easiest part. It’s easy going one on one with a vampire or whatever the monster of the week is. It’s simple, physical. Their strength against your own mixed in with instinct and a little bit of intelligence. Even when it’s dangerous, when they almost win, when you and your opponent are evenly matched and it all hinges on you being just a smidgen better. (You would never admit it but sometimes that’s when you feel the most alive. When you’re staring death in the face and oh so close to loosing.) The fights are easy. It’s the battles that are hard. Unraveling plans and apocalypses when the enemy always is one step ahead and the fate of thousands rests on your shoulders. Facing demons that aren’t just brutes wrecking havoc, ones with big plans that use humans like chess pieces. Sometimes it’ll be months just waiting, unable to do anything until they make their next move and you feel hopeless and so damn tired.

Sometimes it’s personal and that’s probably the worst. You have friends, a team as they call themselves, and a watcher whose sharp as a tack to support you and you’re grateful for them. They hold you together and you don’t know what you’d do without them but they’re all mortal, all so fragile and they all have targets painted on their backs thanks to you. They smile and say that don’t really mind, they’d do it for you a thousand times but that doesn’t undo the damage your friendship with them has caused. There is still a pale scar across Dirk’s throat from when he was taken over by a demon that specialized in using people as flesh puppets and the only way for Dirk to regain control of his body way to hold a knife to his own throat to force the demon out.

Roxy smiles and jokes while browsing the web for information but after losing another schoolmate to something supernatural sometimes pulls out a bottle or two of wine. It’s awful and it hurts you more than broken bones and bloody wounds. You can’t save them all and you know that but it doesn’t make it okay. Jake doesn’t blame you for the werewolf hunter who put a bullet through his grandmother but that does nothing to alleviate the guilt.

Still you keep your chin up and move on. You stay alive because as much as you hate this job you could never curse another girl with this burden.

You feel trapped and overwhelmed and stressed. Sometimes fighting helps but when it doesn’t, those are the times when you find yourself in the graveyard seeking out someone you should be running from.

Sometimes you manage to fool yourself into thinking that he’s not a monster. It’s easy when he speaks lazily and calm about miracles and how the heck magnets work anyway. You let him hold you and call you his sweet sis and it’s almost a normal relationship. You try to forget that he’s been wearing the same youthful face for far too many years and instead act like he’s just a normal boy and you’re just a normal girl. You never let yourself pretend for too long though.

You can’t, can’t forget how his lazy smile can so quickly turn dangerous and deadly. He may be as close to harmless as you could hope for, (“They put somethin’ all up in here,” he says tapping the side of his head. “Ain’t been able to lay a finger on no one since. Get an awful pain in my head.”) But you know what he’s done. He’s killed more than the average vampire.

Once he tells you about one of the two slayers before you that he killed. His voice is fond as he describes her, as if he’s talking about a beloved pet or something as mundane.

“Found my little kitty bitch right outside of Nepal. She was a feisty one, put up one hell of a fight,” he laughs low and you can’t bring yourself to tear away from him. “She was fast, managed to land a few hits, leave a few scars.” He takes your hand and places it upon his cheek for you to trace the deep scars you’ve always wondered about. “I got her in the end though. Her blood was the sweetest thing I ever did taste.” You’re sitting down leaning against him and, not for the first time, you become incredibly aware of exactly how close his teeth are to your neck. How quickly he could rip out your throat. But then, gentle as any love-struck boy he lifts your chin and kisses you soft and sweet. You kiss him back, letting the taste of his mouth drive away your doubts and fears. You don’t ask him about the other slayer he killed. You don’t want to know.

He’s dangerous and unpredictable. He’s a killer without remorse. He’s the man who finds humor in spilt blood. He’s the one who hold you at night. Who whispers comforting things when you just can’t do it anymore. Who can make you laugh. Who kisses you until you forget the burdens forced upon you. He’s yours.

Your name is Jane Crocker, you are the slayer, and you have a bad habit of courting disaster.


End file.
